


humans

by starlightment



Series: Gift Fics [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cute, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Light Angst, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Outsider, Pining Keith (Voltron), Romance, kosmo POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17987717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightment/pseuds/starlightment
Summary: Keith and Lance, as told by Kosmo the space wolf.





	humans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gigili-jiggly](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gigili-jiggly).



> Written for @gigili-jiggly <3

   **. . .**

 

Nights — or whatever they’re called here in the timeless void that is the Quantum Abyss — are often the most difficult to endure.

“In sleep, your mind will be even more susceptible to visions,” Krolia explains a bit ominously over the sound of crackling firelight. “They will come to you like dreams — or nightmares — whether you want them to or not.”

And, somehow, Kosmo seems to understand the weight of this concept; as well as any sentient space wolf can be expected to, that is. He hears it in the somber strain of her voice, the way her words burn around the edges with something both tired and fierce. He sees it in the rigid posture that grips her shoulders, and the way she stares — unblinking, unseeing — off to the side, where rain is falling in heavy sheets just beyond the mouth of the cave.

But, mostly, Kosmo sees it in Keith.

Keith — _his human_ — who is always so sweet, so gentle, with the way he murmurs into Kosmo’s silky mane, and always so diligent, so generous, with his belly rubs and ear scratches.

Keith, who now sleeps on the damp ground, folding in on himself like wounded prey, shivering beside what remains of the dwindling campfire.

Kosmo pads his way over, tail drooping miserably between his legs, licking the wetness off of those tear-stained cheeks. Keith stirs — _flinches_ , more like — from the touch, and Kosmo whimpers, just a mournful winnow of sound, because he doesn’t know what to do or how to make things better or how to stop the pain.

So he curls himself up against Keith, feeling his human’s back rise and fall with every ragged breath. Kosmo hopes that his fur is warm enough to keep him from shivering. He hopes that his company is comforting enough to protect him from —

“Please...”

Kosmo’s ears perk up, twitching attentively.

“Lance, _please_ ,” Keith mumbles, voice fragile like glass. “Don’t leave —”

Keith’s entire body convulses with a sob, and Kosmo whimpers again, crying for his human, nuzzling himself closer.

He hopes it feels as nice as a belly rub.

  

* * *

  

By the time they finally touch ground inside the hangar, there’s already a group of other humans gathered nearby, waiting for them to emerge from the mysterious Altean pod that brought them here. Kosmo flashes his glowing, gold-rimmed eyes at the line of unfamiliar faces, one by one.

They come in all shapes and sizes. A small one, a large one, a skinny one. One with an orange, twirly mustache, and one with a mechanical-looking arm.

Humans are _very_ strange, Kosmo decides at once.

“Keith, it’s so good to see you,” says the fake-armed one, pinning Keith with a dark, bottomless gaze that sets Kosmo’s protective instincts all aflame.

His claws dig harshly into the metal floor, jaw clamping tight around a throaty growl, ready to attack at the first sign of danger, but Keith is approaching the group without drawing his weapon — like maybe he already _knows_ these humans, can vouch for their harmlessness — and so Kosmo remains dutiful and stoic at Krolia’s side.

“Hold on,” says a voice. The skinny human in blue armor takes a tentative stride forward, hands raised in surrender. “How do we know you’re the _real_ Keith, and not his bigger, cooler, grizzled older brother?”

Keith marches right past him, steadfast and steely, but Kosmo happens to notice the way their shoulders brush in the process. “I don’t have time for this, Lance.”

The wolf tilts his head with a curious twitch, and _stares_.

— Lance?

The blue human pouts his bottom lip while Kosmo’s tail begins swishing to and fro, a frantic pendulum, unable to contain this sweeping swell of excitement pulsing like a livewire right beneath his fur because —

_Lance._

_This is Lance._

“Hey, everybody, Keith’s back!”

“We need to stop Lotor,” Keith is telling the group without any preamble. “He’s been —” 

“Arr-ooo!”

Then, with a howl and a zap of bluish sparks, Kosmo is sitting at Lance’s feet, tongue half- hanging out, fur gone all shimmery with residual cosmic energy, sprinkling around him like a fine mist. And, regrettably, it’s a bit too late to consider that these new humans might not have much experience with teleporting wolves before Lance gives a shrill yelp, and topples backwards with a thud.

“Would you quit messing around?” Keith flings impatiently in their direction.

“It’s not me!” cries Lance. “Your wolf just — _poofed_ at me! _Out of thin air!”_

“Oh. Yeah, he does that.”

“So you’re saying it’s actually a magical _alien_ wolf?” the small human says with a growing grin.

“Dude,” the big one gasps. “That’s freakin’ _awesome_.”

Kosmo yips with delight, crawling forward until he’s but an inch from Lance’s startled face, nearly nose to nose.

Lance just blinks at him.

Kosmo blinks back.

Yes, humans may be strange creatures, indeed, but their _eyes_ , Kosmo thinks, are the strangest part of all. They move too much, and sometimes they leak for no good reason, and there’s — _fur_ sticking out the tops of them. _Fascinating_. And _these_ eyes, in particular — well. Kosmo has never seen any quite like _this_ before. They’re the same color as a shimmering nebula, a piece of polished moonstone, maybe. Bright. Pretty, even, as far as human anatomy goes.

And they’re _Lance’s_ eyes.

He wonders if Keith knows them as well as he knows the stars.

“H-Hey there, fella,” Lance croaks. His hand trembles as it inches closer. “I, uh... I come in peace. And I probably don’t taste very good either, just — so you know.”

Then there are fingers — _gentle_ fingers — just barely confident enough to rustle the thick fur of Kosmo’s mane. The wolf leans into the touch, and Lance gasps, moments away from retracting his hand out of fright when Kosmo starts mewling happily, and then Lance is smiling, and — _oh_. Oh, Lance’s ear scratches are to die for. No wonder Keith likes him so much.

“Hey,” comes Keith’s commanding tone, accompanied by a brusque snap of his fingers. “ _Off_.” 

But Kosmo doesn’t budge. Beneath these newfound human hands, he preens, and swoons, and melts. Lance has just begun to catch on, rubbing and scratching away with gusto.

“Looks like your new buddy is about as good at listening to orders as _you_ are, dude,” Lance says with a laugh, leaning in to coo against Kosmo’s snout, “Isn’t that right, handsome? Aw yeah, who’s a good boy? Who’s a big, fluffy _hothead_ —”

“I said _there’s no time_.”

Keith’s voice rumbles dangerously through the massive hangar, and Kosmo feels Lance’s hands go perfectly limp where they were once so diligent and eager. His smile fades, lips smoothing into a straight line.

That’s when Kosmo sees it — those pretty moonstone eyes, dulling like a dying star.

“Yes,” Krolia shatters the tense silence at long last, “There’s much to discuss.”

She, Romelle, and the rest of the unfamiliar humans make to leave, voices low and serious as they mutter, fret, and whisper amongst themselves. But Keith lingers. With his brow creased, and his fists balled, he throws a hard look over his shoulder.

And Lance is there to catch it. Their gazes lock, intertwine, and stay there until the air goes dry and blistering between them. Kosmo wonders why they aren’t speaking. He wonders why Lance has started trembling again, and why Keith isn’t spilling himself over, and running to Lance, and telling him about all those long, lonely nights in the Quantum Abyss, when he would cry his eyes sore, and _beg_ him to stay —

Keith leaves. He pivots around, and holds his breath tight inside his lungs, and _leaves_.

Only Lance remains in the hangar now. Kosmo whines sorrowfully, and licks the boy’s cheek, slobbering all over the side of his face. With a broken grin, Lance pats the wolf’s head — a silent thanks — before clambering to his feet. Eventually, he follows after the others, Kosmo trotting along at his side.

_Humans_ , the wolf thinks with a sniff. _So_ strange. 

 

* * *

  

“Keith...”

Maybe it’s a dream.

“ _Keith_.”

But when Kosmo finally stirs awake, he sees a long shadow crouched beside Keith’s sleeping form, and then he knows it’s anything but.

_An ambush_ , the wolf’s mind supplies, because all those years in the Quantum Abyss tell him that it is. Nights were always spent with one eye open to the threats that dwelled nearby, taking turns guarding the entrance of their cave. But now, with Shiro and Krolia sleeping soundly in the cargo hold, there’s no one else around to protect his human.

The moment Kosmo leaps to his paws, he stops, watching the dim glow of Black’s cockpit give way to Lance’s face, tired but determined. Kosmo can see those pretty eyes a mile away.

“Lance?” mumbles Keith, his voice all gravel. “What — How did you —”

“I needed to see you,” Lance says at once. And then, softly, “Sorry, is that weird? I just — I _needed_ to see —”

It happens fast — faster than a teleport, Kosmo thinks. Keith is throwing his arms around Lance, nearly knocking them both over from the strength of it. Lance responds on autopilot, limbs winding, fingers gripping fabric, in a way that’s almost desperate. In a way that has Kosmo _entranced_ , watching from his darkened corner. He’s never seen two humans try to fuse their bodies together like this before.

“I thought —” Lance chokes, shuddering within Keith’s arms. “— we all thought you could’ve been...”

“I missed you,” whispers Keith, “every day.”

Then something _very_ peculiar starts to happen. What little space still remains between their slotted bodies is promptly sewn up as their mouths collide with all the force of a falling meteorite. Kosmo can hear the ragged tempo of their breath as it stutters and stops inside their lungs, and the wolf figures it must be _painful_ thing — the way their noses bump, and their mouths land a little off-center, and someone’s teeth dig into someone else’s soft lips.

And yet —

There’s warmth. A curious, otherworldly sensation that Kosmo can feel clear across the cockpit. He watches how they cling to one another, like every star in the galaxy could fall, and crash, and burn around them, and they _still_ wouldn’t let go. He watches how the tears start to trickle from Keith’s eyes again, only now he has Lance — sweet, gentle, pretty-eyed Lance — to wipe them away. Kosmo watches, and _watches_ , and, eventually, he understands; as well as any sentient space wolf can be expected to.

Lance is _Keith’s_ human.

“Stay,” says Keith. “Please.” 

It’s more than Kosmo can resist. As the two humans lay themselves down, still fused, the wolf scampers his way toward them. He can hear the sound of their quiet laughter as he curls himself up between their tangled legs, basking in their warmth, staying near.

Because, after all — Kosmo has _two_ humans to protect now.


End file.
